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Baku had always had a deep love for the winter season. This typically came as a surprise to most people. Something about his personality had always resonated that he was the type to enjoy warm springs and sunny summers. He can understand what they mean. Has worked for years to curate his image into something that resembles warmth. But the truth was that, more than anything, he loved the cold winter days.
Loved the way frost clung to the tree bark and the sides of buildings. The way the air hit his nose in the morning when he walked to school, the way it filled his lungs and burned his chest ever so slightly. He loved the snow, the way everything seemed to be tinged with a type of magic that he couldn't quite explain.
The way the cold season seemed so much warmer than spring and summer combined. The cheerful laughter, the familiar love, the way everything seemed so inviting. A season so cold that in his eyes seemed unbelievably warm, just like him.
When he was younger, he counted the days until it was December again. Eagerly awaiting the moment when the plain streets he walked through every day shifted into something magical. The incandescent lights, the inflatable figures, the garland, everything mixed together to make the perfect environment.
The unbridled excitement of seeing his neighborhood illuminated in decades-old lights filled him with so much joy.
When he met Baekjin, his love for the season grew more than he thought was even possible.
If the world had seemed bright before, after meeting Baekjin, it was impossibly illuminated. The streets seemed brighter, the snow more reflective, the carolers attuned, everything he loved about the season accentuated tenfold.
Baekjin always seemed to think that having Baku in his life was something that made his life better, brighter. He thought that he needed Baku more than Baku needed him. That between the two of them, he was the only one who was alone.
In a sense, Baekjin wasn't entirely wrong about that. Baku wasn't alone, not physically at least. He had a family, a father, friends, whereas Baekjin was by himself; alone.
Unfortunately, having people around you doesn't strictly mean that you are not alone. He may have had a family, may have had friends, but before Baekjin, he was alone. There was no one who understood him, no one who needed him to be anything he wasn’t. He didn't have to keep up appearances for Baekjin. Could let himself be sad just as much as he could be happy.
Baekjin had entered his life and made it better than the other boy could ever comprehend.
Now, everything seemed so much darker than he could explain.
It was a feeling he had tried to keep clamped down. A thought he didn't allow his mind to linger on for too long. The knowledge that the departure of Baekjin, forced, made by his own choices, took something from Baku that he would never be able to get back.
Walking through his neighborhood now, the streets he has known since he was a child, the streets that once used to fill him with so much joy, he can't bring himself to feel anything. That childlike wonder and love he had for the season flickered away little by little every year, the reminder of what they once had burning inside of him until nothing but ashes was left behind.
When he was sure that Baekjin was alive, he used to pretend that he didn't care about their separation. Used to decline every phone call with his name, used to ask him to pretend like they were never anything, used to admonish Baekjin for his behavior and assure him that their situation was nothing more than something he caused. That if they were separated, it was for no other reason than because of Baekjin’s own actions.
Now, he looks down at his phone, hands freezing around it, skin tinted red from the cold, and wishes more than anything else that Baekjin would just call. Even as he remembers all the calls he had declined, all the attempts at something he could not name at the time, that he had ignored.
Baku wishes that there was still a part of him that went through this season and felt anything other than remorse. He wishes he could see the decorations and feel something close to the warmth he used to. Wishes that the smell, the taste, the feel that came with the season were like before.
Instead, he just feels like a ghost. Wandering around the streets, thinking about a presence that was once practically part of him. More than ever, it feels like a limb was torn out of him. Like something vital is missing, but no one knows.
He wonders if the people who walk by him as he wanders around can feel it. If they can see what he feels, if they can tell that he isn't whole.
Baekjin hadn't been kind; he had been horrible, had hurt him so much, had taken all his trust and love and thrown it away, and even while he thinks this, Baku still feels like the words are untrue. Yet, Baku had never been able not to love him. Every moment they spent apart felt like he was slowly burning.
· · ❅ · ·
The first year they spent together, he counted down the days until Baekjin’s birthday, planning and saving up money for months until the day finally came. They hadn't even known each other for that long. Just the few weeks leading up to the start of winter.
Not that it mattered to him, from the first moment he saw Baekjin, bloodied and bruised, beaten for no reason other than being slightly different from their classmates, he knew that Baekjin would always be someone important to him. Even now, he can remember his frightened eye, the way his pupils shook with fear until he realized that Baku wasn't there to hurt him.
His heart aches when he remembers that look. The fear that had been in Baekjin’s eyes. The way the other boy never looked at him like that again. Even when they were fighting, when Baku had hit him over and over again, bruises seeping into each other's skin, Baekjin didn't look at him, afraid.
It does irreparable damage to his heart to know that.
That even when they were fighting, even when Baku was hurting him, Baekjin wasn't afraid. Did he see him lift his fists and think back to all the times they played together? To the snow fights and the tag games where they ran around pretending to fight, thinking they would never actually do something to hurt the other?
It doesn't matter now. There should be no reason for why he remembers everything that happened and thinks about that pain, but he does.
For the weeks leading up to Baekjin’s birthday, he miraculously planned every single activity. Down to the minute they would meet, and the second they would part. It was perhaps the most organized he has ever been. But that's how it always was with Baekjin’s birthday, after all, his best friend deserved to be celebrated in a proper way, with planning and care and so, so much love.
He had thought for so long of what they should do— what they could do. They were just kids then, confined by rules and regulations that they wouldn't have to go through now, and not for the first time, he thinks about what that would look like now.
Back then, it had been a walk around their neighborhood, building snowmen, visiting the cafe they passed by that Baekjin kept looking at, and stargazing at the end of the night. Would it be the same now?
Would they walk down their street, fingers icy from the cold, noses red, cheeks and blotchy, standing far too close to each other, inching in to “keep warm” until their hands interlaced? Would they finally have the courage to stand close to each other without pretenses? Finally, admit that they don't just seek warmth but the presence of the other?
Almost as if he was living through it again, he remembers Baekjin’s hand in his. Remembers the weight of it as they ran around the streets. Remembers Baekjin’s wide smile when they entered the cafe, and Baku slid over the spare change he had managed to collect. The way his eyes sparkled when he exchanged it for a cup of hot chocolate and an overly sweet pastry. Remembers the taste of the chocolate as it hit his tongue. The cloying sweetness of the drink and the bread that coated his mouth, and he remembers thinking it was not nearly as sweet as Baekjin’s expression as they shared the drink, or his laughter when he pointed out the whipped cream that clung to Baku’s upper lip.
Nothing could ever really be as sweet as Baekjin. Something so utterly ironic, considering most people walked around thinking the other boy was made of ice. It brings him just as much pain and happiness at the thought that he was the only person to ever have Baekjin in that way. That no other living person was able to bring out the warmth and kindness that resided in Na Baekjin.
The smile, the glitter in his eyes, the pronounced dimples, the infectious laugh. All of it was Baku’s. Just his. Even when they weren’t.
He remembers all of it so well; it makes his chest ache with something he had long since thought was buried deep inside. Something he had tried to detach himself from in order to protect both of them, or at least that's what he tried to tell himself. As if a lie like that could help him sleep at night.
The truth was, he had never done a good job at saving his heart from Baekjin. Through it all, the other boy remained the only owner of his entire being, his heart, his soul, his everything.
With Baekjin, things were more often than not complicated in ways he still didn't understand. Like a long game of pretend that neither of them could ever win. Somehow, they always failed to see eye to eye on the things that mattered most, assuming that they understood each other but always missing the mark.
Although maybe that was just him. Perhaps Baekjin understood him in ways he never learned to with Baekjin. It's like a punch in the gut that no physical hit could ever replicate. Knowing that Baekjin understood him when he was never able to understand Baekjin.
When the night was over, and both of them were bone tired from everything they had done, they left with the promise of seeing each other the next day, a promise that had taken much begging from Baku’s part.
That had been something he planned out long before Baekjin’s birthday. In the weeks before Christmas, he had pressed Baekjin about spending both days together. Stating that his father didn't celebrate the holiday, so it did not matter if he went out or not, and that he could wait to see Baekjin until after the celebration at the orphanage.
Baekjin, always cautious of how things would appear, said that maybe it was better not to, especially because they would spend the day before together. But Baku had pouted and whined about the importance of spending their first Christmas together, and as always, Baekjin gave in.
Gifting Baku with a small, shy smile that seemed reserved just for him, and agreed. Nodding along and holding himself back when Baku ran into him, hugging him and picking him from the ground, just a little from his excitement.
It wouldn't be a surprise, or it shouldn't have been back then. Not when at the time, Baekjin always ended up giving in. All it took was some pleas from Baku's part, and Baekjin would fold all too easily every single time.
So, Christmas morning, Baku managed to sneak into the orphanage. It had been late at night, only a few hours of the day were even left, but he had finally managed to get his dad to fall asleep, and the second he had, he ran out of the house and didn’t stop until he was in front of the orphanage. Then he climbed up the closest window, the one Baekjin had planned to leave open, and stumbled in.
The first person he saw when doing so, however, was not Baekjin as he had expected. No, instead, hovering above him with a gentle and serious face, stood the director. Her face showed no signs of disbelief or surprise, yet Baku remembers with a clear vision just how afraid he had felt. The way his feet seemed to be glued to the floor, terrified with the possible consequences for both himself and Baekjin.
He remembers how his mind had immediately gone to Baekjin. To what punishment they would give him. If they would hurt him, if he would get mad at Baku for ruining everything. Then he finally, he thought of himself, how his father would react to getting a call with the news that his son had once again gotten himself in trouble by breaking into the orphanage.
How he had stood frozen, envisioning how angry his father would be. What look his face would morph into, how his words would twist.
As much as he wished it were untrue, his fear of his father always outweighed most things. And at the time, he was sure that part of his punishment would be to never see Baekjin again, after all, that would be the greatest punishment his ten-year-old mind could think of.
As if in a movie, he also remembers his shock at being led to a room where other kids his age were playing. Beyond everything, he remembers the unimaginable happiness that soared through him when he saw Baekjin.
How Baekjin’s eyes widened when he turned around and looked at Baku. The soft “Humin-ah” that left his lips when he ran over to Baku and hugged him for a single second before remembering himself and pulling back.
His mind twists with he images of Baekjin’s face, happier than he has ever seen him, and how it morphs with the final smile Baekjin allowed him to see.
There was a part of him back then that had been devastated at having their plans ruined. Now that part is all grown up, and can finally look at the memory with fondness instead of bittersweet sadness.
Instead of going out and walking to the hill at the end of their town, setting a blanket and taking out games and sandwiches that Baku had carefully prepared, they sat on one of the only high tables in the room, far in the back, pretending like there was no one there but each other. Observed by the director while Baku took out said sandwich, now squashed, and the whipped cream melted onto the plastic wrap Baku had folded them into.
Still, Baekjin had taken the sandwich, bitten into it, and smiled so sincerely that Baku couldn't even find it in himself to feel sad. Instead, he had felt so much pride at having made something that in any way brought joy to Baekjin.
Unsurprisingly, his feet take him to the orphanage. He sees the bench they used to sit in. The tree with carved initials at the base. His legs take him to the front of the children's home. Mind still riddled with too many emotions, he peeks inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of Baekjin's face.
Hoping beyond hope that the younger boy had returned there, that he found a refuge in the walls he had once called home. But there was no sign of him.
Almost against his will, he knocked on the door. Two firm hits on the door, more than loud enough to be heard, even when a part of him didn't want the director to open the door.
He was either really lucky or really unlucky, because mere seconds after his hand falls to his side, the door opens.
A face he had seen so many times before meets his, and before he can stop himself, he asks, “Is Baekjin here?”
The silence is deafening for so long that he thinks he had imagined asking the question out loud until he hears her voice, cracked and scratchy, utter a low, “I’m sorry.”
His heart splinters as soon as his mind processes the words.
It almost feels like the world shakes
“Come inside,” She ushers, pulling him by the sleeve of his coat, “It’s freezing out there, and you are not nearly covered enough. Come, come.” She leads him to the same room she had all those years ago, and makes him sit down, on that same damn table he had chosen back then.
He wonders if it’s on purpose, if she remembers seeing them sitting there all those years ago and decided to produce as much damage to him as she could.
Perhaps, she blames him for what happened. Never mind the fact that there is no way she knows about the fight.
Baku had spent so much time in this room during those few years he had with Baekjin, but even then, the entire place looked so awfully different from how it had been back then.
He thinks it might just be because of the lack of presence of the younger boy. There was little point in anything when Baekjin wasn’t by his side. The empty chair taunts him. Makes him think of that missing piece that might forever linger in his mind, and how he had been the reason for its absence.
She walks away without saying anything, simply patting him on the shoulder and walking through a door that Baku had never found out what it led to.
· · ❅ · ·
Their second year together, they had agreed to call on Christmas instead. Baekjin had been too afraid that Baku would get in trouble, and Baku, although at the time he would not admit it, was afraid of his father getting mad and forbidding him from seeing Baekjin.
At least they still had Baekjin’s birthday, he had thought back then. Assuring himself that he would make it worth it even if they did not physically spend Christmas together.
So he had woken up bright and early, walked to the orphanage as soon as he knew the kids were allowed out, and knocked on the door. The director had let him in, a polite and warm smile on her face as he excused himself to get Baekjin.
They had breakfast there. Baku had made sure the night before to make chocolate chip cookies so that Baekjin would have something sweet to enjoy. They had been simple, an old recipe he found online and printed out at the school's library. He remembers all too well how giddy he had been when he first found it, the way he had stuck it to his notebook so he wouldn’t forget it. If he looks back through that old shoe box pushed to the back of his bed, he knows he’ll find that beat-up recipe along with every important object that they had collected in those few years.
When they had made it out of the orphanage, bellies full of cookies and milk, they were greeted with fresh snow. Still falling to the pavement, piling up more and more every second.
Baku had wasted no time in running off into the park, impatient to be able to play in the snow. Baekjin had followed behind him, smiling the entire time as he watched Baku. It’s something that he noticed back then— even if he never had the courage to ask Baekjin—his stare. The way it lingered on Baku regardless of what they did. He had always questioned it, wondered why Baekjin was always so intent on seeing him; now he knows.
After playing pretend for so long, he has finally come to learn why Baekjin stared so much. Why Baekjin’s eyes seemed to stay glued to Baku, tracing and drinking in every one of his moves. It was the same reason why his chest always felt lighter when Baekjin was by his side. The same reason he felt like he couldn’t breathe when the younger boy wasn’t around.
He knows, but even now, it’s too much to say out loud.
When Baekjin finally joined his side, he had done so by throwing a snowball square at his face. Baku, taking it as a challenge, had picked up as much snow as he could carry and threw it right back at Baekjin.
Now, when he looks at the snow piled on the ground for too long, he can remember Baekjin’s giggles as he ran away.
They had chased each other for so long, only stopping when Baku realized that Baekjin was shivering. His teeth clanked together as he tried to keep his hands from shaking. It was then that he had noticed that Baekjin didn’t have a proper winter coat. He had only been wearing two sweaters over each other and a long scarf that he had wrapped around his neck too many times to count.
So, Baku had stepped closer to Baekjin, taken his own coat off, and thrown it over his best friend. Baekjin had tried to refuse, repeating “I can’t take it, you’ll get cold,” endlessly until Baku had practically put the coat on him, telling him that he would be fine.
Perhaps it was a good thing that they were planning to call the next day instead of seeing each other, because Baku had woken up; he had one of the worst colds to date. He does not doubt that it had nothing to do with giving his coat to Baekjin, but he also knew that the younger boy would blame himself.
The next night, instead of falling into windows and scaring themselves into an almost terrible mood, they called. That plan had also taken more coordination than it should have. Baku had begged his father for permission to use their landline, and Baekjin had to bribe a couple of the older kids with homework answers so they would let him use it that night.
It wasn’t exactly what Baku had wanted; if he had it his way, he would see Baekjin every second of both days, hell, every second of every day if he was honest. But those two days rang as something more important in his mind. Something sacred and precious that he had to make sure stayed magical. A phone call wasn’t that, not really. But he cherished it anyways. Cherished hearing Baekjin’s voice on the other side.
Even now, he can still recall the way he felt during those calls. The reminder lay heavy and thick in his chest as he remembered everything. The way Baekjin would tell Baku about everything he had done that day, how they were given a special breakfast and a gift for everyone, because that year someone had donated. How he had been so excited at receiving a new winter coat, because now they could go on longer walks without his arms hurting, and how Baku would not have to give up his coat for him anymore.
Baekjin had been so excited about spending his next birthday with him and making sure they could stay out for a long time, even if his fingers went numb. At the mention of that, Baku had made a mental note to save up enough money from the tips he occasionally managed to get without his dad finding out, and buy Baekjin some new gloves to go with the coat.
His heart feels impossibly tight as he remembers the way Baekjin’s soft tone would dull down even more as the clock ticked. The background noises of kids running and playing before being led back to their rooms, until it was just Baekjin. The rustle of movement as he shifted on the couch, trying to move enough so he wouldn’t succumb to sleep.
It rarely ever worked. Baekjin, without fail, fell asleep before Baku every time. Almost as soon as Baku started talking for a longer time, he would hear Baekjin’s breathing slow down until it was even. And every time after Baekjin would apologize for falling asleep, he would say that he didn’t mean to sleep during the middle of Baku’s talk, but that his voice calmed him.
Not like he ever took it to heart anyway. No, knowing that he was a source of comfort for Baekjin made him happier than he should have, perhaps. He just couldn’t help but feel giddy about how domestic it was. Talking into the late hours of the night, waiting until the clock turned to midnight, and finally falling asleep together. He could imagine them doing that for years until they finally moved in together.
The idea of living together was not one he had ever shared with Baekjin. At the time, he had thought it so natural, plenty of friends did that all the time. It wasn’t until he got a little bit older and thought about his feelings a little bit more that he realized his desires weren’t just those of best friends.
He imagined doing everyday things that any friends would do with Baekjin all the time. Thought about hanging out and studying, or going out the way they did then.
His thoughts always strayed from just simple platonic acts. Mind shifting into how nice it would be to hold hands as they walked around, about wrapping an arm around Baekjin’s waist and holding him close to his side. Thought about leaning in and kissing Baekjin as the younger boy read a book or studied. Thought about the way he would pout and pretend to be annoyed, all while his cheeks flushed darker, until he would finally give in and kiss him back, forgoing his studies in favor of being close to Baku.
He longed for it more than he thought someone could. His mind constantly flickered through excuses he could make up to have Baekjin be closer to him. Talked himself into asking Baekjin to hold hands on one of his birthday walks, only to chicken out in the end. Far too afraid of losing his best friend to allow himself the extra proximity.
It was a constant battle for himself. Trying to figure out how to ask for more while believing he should be more grateful for what he already has.
To him, Baekjin had been too precious to risk losing just because his heart instead on being greedy and demanded more.
So he stayed quiet, didn’t ask for more than what was offered, and never questioned the distance he was putting on them until it was too late.
Back then, he hadn’t been sure what had spurred the change between them. Only noticed that something was wrong until it was seemingly too late. Until the anger and fear had already taken over his best friend, pushing him to become someone they both knew he didn’t want to become.
The reminder of all he had done wrong almost takes him over, pulling him away from the past bittersweet warmth of their friendship and reminding him of what had led to the end when he hears footsteps approaching him.
She sets down a mug in front of him, the sweet smell of chocolate hitting his nose and twisting in his gut. Then she takes a seat in front of him, the seat that had been reserved for someone else so long ago, and finally speaks up. “I’ll be honest, I was hoping you would bring news of Baekjin-ah.”
“I wish I did. I haven’t spoken to him in weeks… I thought,” his mouth feels dry with disappointment. “I thought maybe you knew something about him.” He can’t keep the hope away from his tone, even as it twists into bitter disappointment when his mind catches up with the truth.
As if he had nothing better to do, he picks the mug up, letting his eyes linger on the patterns of the ceramic as he takes a sip. The liquid is hot, so much so that it burns the back of his throat and coats his entire mouth with something too sweet.
Baku had never been the type to enjoy sweets. Salty and spicy food or snacks were always his go-to. Or at least they were before he met Baekjin, and after they had parted ways. Now, despite the wrinkle it brings to his nose and the way it makes his teeth almost hurt, he can’t help but enjoy the taste, if only to wonder if it’s what Baekjin would taste like.
He never lets the thought linger for long, even when he chases the taste and remembers Baekjin’s bright smile every time they had something sweet.
“He hasn’t come by in a month. It’s strange, usually he would never miss out on seeing the kids on Christmas.” He watches horrified as her face crumbles for a second before she pulls it back together. Is that where Baekjin learned to keep his emotions? “That might be my fault.”
The words startle him more than he thought they would. If Baekjin’s absence is anyone’s fault, surely it’s his. “What? Why?”
“I tried talking to him, the last time he came by, but I think I might not have expressed my concern in an appropriate way.” Her eyes fill with tears at the corners, but even as the minutes pass by, they don’t drop.
Wasn’t that always true with Baekjin? How awfully sad that every person around him managed to miss the mark when trying to show how much they cared. Though he is sure that she must have done a better job at showing she cared compared to him, but that is an easy line to cross.
“Did you argue?” It’s the only thing his mind can conjure, and he feels stupid as soon as the words come out. There is no part of him that believes Baekjin would ever argue with someone older than them, especially someone he respects so much.
“No… I, well, I just expressed some concerns I had. I should have said them sooner.” She looks so frail. Maybe this is what people mean when they say someone carries their heart on their sleeve.
He can’t help but think about how well she’s keeping it together, even when it’s clear that she’s hanging on by a thread. Maybe it’s because she’s looking out for him, because she knows how important Baekjin was is to him. He doesn’t think he could do the same. After all, when he had caught word that Baekjin might be missing, he had locked himself in his room and cried until he physically couldn’t anymore. Until his ribs ached and his eyes had been completely dry until the next time he caught sight of something that reminded him of his ex-best friend.
He tries to smile, even as he feels his lips shake, “I’m sure whatever you said, he didn't take it in a bad way. Baekjin always had a lot of respect for you.”
Another sip of chocolate, another image of Baekjin’s smile, until the mug is empty and he can meet her eyes again. Then he gets up from his seat and shakes invisible dust from his pants, “I have to go, sorry—”
She shakes her head, “If you get any news of him, please come by.”
When he makes it out of the orphanage, the snow is piled up higher than before, still dropping at a pace faster than he had seen in years. The only thing he wishes is that Baekjin is safe somewhere, even if he won’t let anyone know where.
· · ❅ · ·
Their last Christmas together had started out rough.
That winter had been particularly tough. Snow had fallen and littered the ground every day since the end of November, and on the morning of Baekjin’s birthday, the roads had been closed, the house snowed in. Baku could barely see out of the windows; instead of seeing people passing by or the tree that was in the street across his house, he was met with icy frost and piles of snow.
Still, he had tried to go out to the orphanage. Had hoped that if they couldn’t go on a walk and see the snow, then they could stay inside. Instead, he was met with his dad’s angry face demanding that he go back to his room. Normally, Baku would back down; going against his dad’s wishes never went well.
Except, it was Baekjin’s birthday.
Not just any day, not just any argument he could back down from. It was something important, and at the time, he refused to leave Baekjin to celebrate another birthday by himself.
Back then, it had seemed like the worst thing he could do to the younger boy. A clear decision that marked a lack of love. So he argued back. Attempted to leave anyway. Fought and walked away. But his best efforts came in short. All he got was a bright, burning red mark on his cheek and a deep disappointment that never faded, even now.
He remembers the sting of his hand as it crossed his cheek, the tears that had made their way up to his eyes, never spilling because that only made his father get angrier. He remembers the almost defiant stomp of his feet as he made his way back to his room, and the way his father's yelling seemed to make the house quake.
Most of all, he remembers the overwhelming disappointment he felt at having failed. The feeling deep in his chest that refused to go away, that he had failed Baekjin. Even back then, he thought back to Baekjin’s excitement the year before at receiving a new coat. By that time, he had almost grown out of it, the sleeves coming down above his wrist, but he had still been so happy at having it because it meant they could play out in the cold for longer.
He knows it wasn’t his fault, knew it even back then that he had done everything he could to make it by Baekjin’s side. But it still felt like failure, even now, he thinks about how it was a wasted opportunity.
The uncertainty of Baekjin’s whereabouts does nothing to quell his guilt or worries. If anything, it only makes him wish things could have been different that year. That he could have gone out and seen Baekjin, storm be damned.
He tries to keep that thought down, though, tries to bury any thought that might lead to him thinking that he should have done better because now he has no way of fixing his past mistakes. It’s pointless. His mind always wanders off to thinking about how he had not heard anything from Baekjin in weeks. But positivity is what he tries to cling to the most.
Back then, it had seemed impossible to try to make anything positive out of the situation. Baekjin wasn’t by his side; his dad was angry at him and would definitely not let him call the younger boy, and he was still snowed in with no hopes of getting out soon.
He had begun to wonder if he would even be able to see or hear from Baekjin before they went back to school, if perhaps the deal he had made with his dad of calling Baekjin the next day had become null and void the moment he decided to try and leave despite being told no.
Instead, a few hours later, as if spurred on by some miracle, his father had walked into his room, head hung low, and offered him his Christmas gift, telling him that he would let him have it early just this once, and before even letting Baku get a word out, he turned around and left the room. Perhaps, it was that type of strange behavior that still made him have some hope for his father, even when he knew that it was probably pointless.
Baku had stared at the bag, hands trembling from the excitement he was trying to keep down, and looked inside.
Just as he had imagined, or perhaps hoped, inside the small bad was a phone. Old, beaten up, screen scratched at the corners, but perfect for what he needed. He remembers tearing it out of the bag and immediately dialing the number he had memorized, even now.
Two, three ring, and a polite voice had answered on the other side. After that, it hadn’t taken long for Baekjin’s voice to show up.
So soft, so perfect, greeting Baku with a simple hello.
He had been so attuned to Baekjin’s voice, to the expressions behind his tones, that he had immediately known that the other boy was smiling, even if he couldn’t actually see him. The reaction had been like a balm on Baku’s heart, a small show that he had not disappointed his friend so much.
When he told Baekjin that his dad had gotten him a phone for Christmas, even though they had never really celebrated before, he made sure to leave out why he had given it to him early. Maybe, Baekjin knew, at least on a surface level, why. But he never asked.
That day, they had stayed up all night talking. Baekjin told him about the activities they were planning for the next day. About the mysterious donor who was going to see them. About how he hoped he would get a new jacket, so that next year, for sure, they would go out and spend the entire day together. That he was sure there would be no storm next year, and that way they could spend as much time as they wanted together.
The next day, when they called, Baekjin had told him that, yes, he did get a new coat, multiple actually, enough so that when he grew out of one, he could just use the next one. That, along with that he had also gotten gloves, a pair for every coat, and some books and stationery for school, and some just so he could read for himself.
His heart hurt back then, just as much as it did now, at the reminder that everything Baekjin had ever asked for was nothing more than basic necessities. Things to keep him going, to help him hope that maybe things weren’t as terrible as he thought. Back then, the younger boy had not wished for luxury, had not wished for countless toys or other extravagant goods that other kids asked for.
All he asked for were necessities, ones that most kids had without having to ask. For how much he thinks about it now and back then, he can’t believe a version of him would ever forget that.
The year after there was no storm, no snow, no nothing, it was as if winter had not passed at all.
It should have been perfect, or it would have.
They should have gone out, should have spent the entire day together. Baekjin should have gotten a chance to show him all of his gifts.
Except that not even two months after that conversation had they gone their separate ways. Baekjin was going down a path Baku could not follow at the time, but he wished he had tried just a little harder to at least take Baekjin away from it.
He wonders now if he would have hung up so early that Christmas if he knew how things would go down. He thinks about the pair of gloves he never got to give Baekjin, the ones he has in that same old shoe box, because he had been too embarrassed to admit that he had saved up for an entire year, only for the gloves he could to be way less nice than the ones the donor had given Baekjin.
It’s so stupid, he thinks. How he let embarrassment win instead of just giving the damn garments to Baekjin? Back then, he may have pretended not to know, but it’s always been in his mind that Baekjin would never look down on him for what he couldn't afford, especially then. He knows Baekjin would have cherished the gift and is sure that he would have made it a point to wear them the most.
He mourns never getting the opportunity to see Baekjin wearing them because of his pride.
The pride that had stopped him from reaching out so many times before. The same one that was making him wander around the neighborhood instead of picking up his phone and calling Baekjin.
Even so, he walks until his legs burn. No direction, no real thought in his mind except for the torturous reminders of what had once been, and all that he had let go of.
It takes him hours to finally make up his mind.
His fingers feel almost numb as he slips them out of his pocket and fishes out his phone. The gloves he had been wearing were far too light for the punishing weather. He dials Baekjin’s number, not saved on his phone but ever-present in his mind.
It rings for so long that he loses hope. He should have known that Baekjin wouldn’t answer, that he would do what Baku did so many times before and let the call go to voicemail. Then, on the last ring, the call takes.
“Humin-ah?” A voice so soft it makes the tears that had clung to his lashes slip past his eyes. A sigh passes through the phone, “If you didn’t mean to call, then we can just hang up now. I’m sorry for picking up.”
“Wait! No, I-I meant to call. I just don’t know what to say yet. Please give me a moment.”
Ever so patient with him, Baekjin doesn’t respond, just waits on the other side, soft breathing calming Baku down as he tries to come up with what he should say. Uselessly, he settles on, “I didn’t think you would pick up.”
From the other side of the line, he can hear some movement, as if Baekjin were sitting up now that he understood the call was purposeful. “Why?”
“You haven’t contacted me since the fight. I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me.” His voice splinters at the end, too many emotions passing through despite him trying to reel it in.
“Isn’t that what you wanted? A clean break, going our separate ways?”
“I—” He shakes his head, not in disagreement; he knows Baekjin can’t see him, but as if the movement could shake off his ideas and bring new ones in. “I thought I wanted that, but I don’t. I miss you.”
Baekjin clears his throat, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Please. Just to make sure you are okay, people have been talking a lot, and I need to know how you are, face to face.” He almost expects Baekjin to disagree. To tell him that they are talking now and that should be enough.
But just like when they were younger, “Fine, I’ll send you my location, just… don’t worry.” Then, without waiting for Baku’s answer, he hangs up.
Not even a minute later, a new message pops up on his phone with Baekjin’s address.
A hospital located almost in the middle of nowhere. He wastes no time thinking and instead runs to the closest bus stop he can find.
The entire ride, his legs bounce up and down, hands shaking on his lap from the stress. It makes him almost angry to think about Baekjin’s last words. “Don’t worry.” As if being told be was in the hospital should be no reason for Baku to be concerned.
He tries to distract himself, tries to think about the scenery or anything that wasn't the image of Baekjin injured, alone, in some hospital hours away. Tries to focus on the snow falling down, the sight working to calm the ache he feels in his chest.
· · ❅ · ·
The first year they didn’t spend Baekjin’s birthday and Christmas together was perhaps the hardest.
Baku had woken up early on the 24th, ready to make his way to the orphanage, his limbs moving before he permitted them to, pure instinct driving them. He managed to shower, change, and walk out the door before he realized that he had nowhere to go anymore.
Although that hadn’t been right, not entirely. He still had somewhere to go. Knew perfectly well that if he showed up, Baekjin would not think twice about keeping up their routine. He was half sure back then, as he is now, that Baekjin wouldn't have even batted an eye at seeing him again.
Back then, it would have ticked him off to get no reaction from Baekjin. Now, he likes to think he understands the unspoken better. Either from how much he has had to deal with it or simply because he is actually open to understanding it now, unlike back then when it had all seemed so black and white.
That was probably his biggest problem back then. The way he obsessively clung to a clear truth. A black or white. A good or bad.
The truth was that none of that was true; Baekjin couldn't be confined to what Baku believed was right or wrong. Nothing was that simple.
He had made bad choices, yes, had done things that hurt Baku and the people he loves. But every choice had been carved out and thought over, perhaps with bad logic, but what other logic could a sixteen-year-old who has to fend for himself have?
Baekjin was not given enough grace, is what his mind supplies him with. Through it all, he had needed support. He would never say it. Baekjin was not the type to speak up about his needs, but did he really have to when the situation was laid bare in front of all of them?
And sure, he made bad decisions, hurt people who had no place in their argument, Baku can’t excuse that, but he can try to understand it now. Even if knowing that now seems pointless when they have done nothing but hurt each other so much.
It’s a realization he should have come up with years ago, back when he first found out. Back then, he had been too stubborn to realize so much of what Baekjin was trying to show, but was too afraid to say.
So instead of letting his reflexes take him to where his heart wanted, he made himself wander around much like he was now.
Then he had tried to blame the way everything seemed so bleak on the uncharacteristic weather. As if the lack of snow was the only reason his heart felt vacant inside his chest. Even as he thought that the environment was just a reflection of his feelings, and not the other way around.
He remembers kicking a rock down the street until he lost it and had to find another one. Remembers the way he desperately tried to pretend like the phantom he felt in his palm wasn't his heart longing to have Baekjin by his side.
It was pointless.
Baekjin was all he managed to think about; that much has never changed. But back then, it had been worse. The wound had still been far too fresh for him to even try to dissect it. Not that he had tried to at all, no, pushing his feelings down was much easier than letting them roam free and get thoughts of their own.
So instead of facing what he felt, what he feels now, and always has from the first moment he saw Baekjin, he ignored it. Pushed it aside and pretended that all of his pain was false. That the only thing keeping him down was the lack of spirit around him, never mind that years later the weather would go back to normal, but Baku always stays stuck in that same feeling.
Unmoving, unchanging, shattered from the inside out by the one person who had at one point been his only safe refuge.
It was a point of misguided anger back then, how Baekjin had taken that from him, even if the decision to part had been his own.
So he had walked up to the hill, sat down on the ground, laid his head on the grass, and hoped that the vacant feeling in his chest could be fixed. Wished that he could find something that would at least dull the ache just a little bit.
He wishes now that he could go back to his fifteen-year-old self and tell him that there was nothing, no one, that could ever fill the void that he had created by trying to rip Baekjin out of his side.
It's a fact he has come to learn in the weeks after the fight. In the silence that followed. In the ache of his chest every time he pocked up his phone only to put it back down when he realized that Baekjin was not going to call him again.
Nothing except that first winter compares to the icy chill that had filled him when he realized that maybe the fight had been goodbye forever. That his last words to Baekjin might stay lies that he never got to correct.
So many damn lies that had slipped past his lips to make the situation okay for himself— no, to make Baekjin hurt in the same way he did. Because, as twisted as it was, he wanted Baekjin to ache just as much as he did at the loss of his presence. He wanted Baekjin to feel like their separation was final, and that it would come from Baku, not himself.
All he did was manage to hurt both of them. The pain in Baekjin’s eyes at every word he threw is something that, even if he does fix things between them tonight, will always haunt him.
There's no taking them back, no. No way he can travel back in time and stop himself from telling Baekjin that he hates him. Now, he has to live with those words, and with whatever they will do to what is left of their relationship.
Finally, he remembers his disappointment when he woke up that first Christmas, knowing that there was nothing for him to look forward to at the end of the day. No endless phone call, no muffled laughter from the other side, no soft voicing growing inaudible until it was lulled to sleep.
For the first time in three years, he spent the 24th and 25th completely and utterly alone. Not letting his mind linger for too long on the possibility of Baekjin spending it alone, after all, it was his fault they were like that.
When the last bus finally drops him off a block away from the hospital Baekjin was in, he runs to the address. Feet hitting the ground almost violently. Disregarding completely what he might look like to others, nothing in his mind except for getting to see Baekjin again.
He walks into the hospital, rushes out to say that he was there to see Baekjin, until he is pointed to the recovery wing. A small glimmer of hope passes by him at the thought that Baekjin was okay, even if he still doesn't know why he’s even there in the first place.
He makes it to the room panting, lungs heavy with a lack of air from the exertion and stress he was going through.
His mind only calms down when he spots him. There, in the center, sitting on top of the bed, is Baekjin. Posture relaxed, head held high, even though his leg is clearly injured, bandages wrapped neatly from his knee all the way down.
Baekjin looks almost startled at seeing him, that careful mask slipping slightly, “I didn't think you would come today.”
“I wanted to see you.”
“Visiting hour is almost over… It's pointless for you to have come so late.”
He has so much he wants to tell Baekjin. Wishes he could explain that it wasn't pointless to him, not when he had spent all day agonizing with the possibility of never seeing him again. Not when for weeks he had wondered if Baekjin was alright, if he should call or wait for Baekjin to talk first.
It seems he takes too long to answer because Baekjin sighs, long, drawn out, tired, and says, “If this is about the Union, I can assure you that I dismantled it. You didn't have to come here just to make sure.” Something in his tone sounds so resigned, it damages Baku in ways he can't explain, can’t even properly comprehend.
He abandons any coherent thought. Every worried question, every argument he wants to start, so he simply says, “It's your birthday.” As if that's enough of an explanation.
Baekjin’s eyebrows furrow. “So?”
It shouldn't hurt as much as it does to hear how uncertain Baekjin is of his answer. But there was a time when his words would have been more than enough for Baekjin to understand why Baku wanted— needed, to be by his side.
“I wanted to spend it with you, even if it's just for a couple of hours.” It's not entirely untrue, but he can’t tell Baekjin just how sick he was making himself with the thought of Baekjin half dead somewhere.
“You made a two-hour trip just to what? Wish me a happy birthday? We haven't spent it together in so long. Why does it matter now?” His words could be mean, but his tone shows that more than anything, Baekjin is just confused.
Still, all Baku can answer is, “Why not?” with a shrug of his shoulders as if it's that simple.
It might be, or maybe Baekjin is just too tired to fight the same way he is. Because instead of questioning him again, of calling him out for his fake nonchalance, Baekjin just responds with, “Fine, what do you want to do?”
“How do you feel?” Before anything else, he has to make sure that Baekjin is at least somewhat okay, even if logically he knows that he’s not.
“Humin—”
“Please? Just indulge me, tomorrow we can worry about everything else, but today just pretend I’m a friend that came to visit you.”
Baekjin looks tired, eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty, but as always, he gives in. “I’m fine, tired, but that's to be expected after the surgery.”
He wants to ask what surgery he means. But it feels stupid to when it's more than clear that it has to do with his leg, the same leg Sieun had beaten a month ago. So he decides that for now, he can’t ask that.
“Are you loopy on meds?”
“Do you think that's why I told you were I am?”
“No,” he walks the small distance from the foot of Baekjin’s bed to the chair beside it. “You just seem relaxed for once.”
Baekjin smiles against himself, “I’m always relaxed.” His voice still sounds far away, polite in the way Baekjin used with strangers, but it’s better than the bitter, hurt tone or the fake indifference that had been aimed at him before.
“Up tight is not the same as relaxed.” He mutters, voice awfully soft despite the environment.
It feels strange in the best way to talk to Baekjin like this after so long.
And yeah, he still has so many questions for Baekjin, where he had disappeared to, if his injuries healed, what was going to happen to the Union. He knows that just because they are talking now, that doesn’t mean that they are okay or that Baekjin will even want to answer anything. But that was a problem for tomorrow, for now, he can just pretend that everything between them hasn’t changed since that first Christmas.